


#AskDylan

by froggydarren



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Dylan isn't a fan of Twitter, M/M, Teen Wolf 5B related, Twitter related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 18:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5712010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/froggydarren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dylan isn’t sure how he got talked into this, but now that the tweet is out, there’s no backing out. His manager and agent both insisted that they would carefully monitor questions, he has access to the official account – safer than getting his already insane mentions flooded – and he’s ready to go. Mostly. Kind of. Not really.<br/><br/>Twitter isn’t his thing, not anymore, because everything he puts out there gets blown out of proportion, or misread.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#AskDylan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siny/gifts), [leetje](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leetje/gifts).



Dylan isn’t sure how he got talked into this, but now that the tweet is out, there’s no backing out. His manager and agent both insisted that they would carefully monitor questions, he has access to the official account -- safer than getting his already insane mentions flooded -- and he’s ready to go. Mostly. Kind of. Not really.

Twitter isn’t his thing, not anymore, because everything he puts out there gets blown out of proportion, or misread. And sometimes he tweets something vague, but someone still figures out what he meant, and what he was referring to. So instead he keeps to DMs if he needs to, and texting. Especially with Hoechlin, because that in public is a whole different can of worms that Dylan isn’t touching.

When he types his own tweet, it’s not without grumbling and hesitation, trying to keep it simple but not obviously faked.

His mentions blow up almost immediately, and Dylan tosses his phone onto the bed, not even attempting to look at them. He’ll get links sent when it’s time to respond, and that’s all that he’s going to deal with.

“You’re really doing this, then?”

Dylan looks up and sees Tyler in the door, glasses slipping down his nose as he’s smirking at his own phone, not even trying to hide that he’s stalking -- “ _following_ , Dylan, that’s the word you’re looking for” “it’s not when you get _alerts_ ” -- Dylan’s account.

“Not like I was given a choice,” Dylan grunts, and lets himself fall onto the bed. “Or I was, but it was ‘strongly advised’ that I do it,” he drops his hands after air-quoting, and groans in frustration.

“Yeah, I’ve had those conversations before. They never end well,” Tyler says and steps closer, stopping at the edge of the bed, his feet between Dylan’s. “Do you need a distraction?”

Dylan lifts his head just enough to see Tyler’s teasing smirk, and he mirrors it.

“You’re here, isn’t that distracting enough?”

“I don’t know, am I?”

Dylan sits up then, and his palms land on Tyler’s waist, thumbs resting on the top of his sweatpants. He lifts his face to meet Tyler’s eyes, and his tongue darts out to slide over his lips.

“That depends, are you planning on doing anything besides standing here?” Dylan asks, amusement ringing through every word.

“It’s a good thing I don’t have anything else to do,” Tyler replies.

Dylan feels the warmth of Tyler’s palms on his shoulders, and then he’s falling backwards onto the bed again, and he scrambles for something to hold on to. That something turns out to be the waistband of Tyler’s pants, and it makes them slide down a little. It’s just enough that Dylan’s palms land on Tyler’s hips when they both stop, Tyler just inches above Dylan’s body, his knees between Dylan’s on the edge of the bed.

“I still have time before the show’s on,” Dylan says quietly, his eyes darting to Tyler’s lips.

“Hmm, let’s see if we can find something to kill that time,” Tyler smiles, and then he leans down to brush his lips over Dylan’s jaw.

~tw~tw~tw~tw~tw~

“I think I forgot something,” Dylan says, eyes closed and his arms folded behind his head.

“That good?” Tyler asks, and chuckles.

Dylan slowly opens his eyes and swats weakly in Tyler’s direction, then runs his fingers through his hair instead. Tyler leans down and kisses Dylan gently, just a slow brush of their lips.

“No, seriously, what was I…” Dylan starts again, and then he hears it.

There’s a buzzing from somewhere on the floor, in the direction of where he _thinks_ Tyler threw their shirts earlier. It keeps happening, and at first Dylan just frowns, but when the buzzing continues, he shoots up, nearly hitting Tyler in the jaw.

“Shit, fuck, Hoech, I was… fucking _Twitter_ , dammit,” Dylan curses and dives for where he hopes his phone is, because a glance at the wall clock tells him he should definitely be doing something that is decidedly not Tyler.

“Hi, hello, fuck I’m sorry,” he rambles when he picks up the incoming call. “No, I know, I tweeted earlier, i’m not stupid. I was just,” he pauses and glances over his shoulder.

Tyler has moved to lean against the headboard, and he looks like he’s trying to hold back laughter.

“I got caught up doing… stuff,” Dylan says.

He can feel the blush in his cheeks and the guilty tone in his voice as he listens to his manager complain, voice loud enough that Tyler must be hearing it too.

“I’m _stuff_ ,” Tyler whispers from his space on the bed, half amused and half trying to sound offended.

Dylan -- phone still by his ear, though he’s not really listening -- shuffles across the bed and leans against Tyler’s side.

“Wanna help me with this, _hot stuff_?” he whispers into Tyler’s ear after covering the phone’s microphone.

Tyler bursts out laughing, and when Dylan shushes him, both their shoulders are shaking. Hearing that his manager is finally running out of steam, Dylan uncovers the microphone again and rambles about there still being time to answer questions. He ends the call, and Tyler grabs the spare one from the nightstand, opening Dylan’s own twitter in the app, checking for the pre-approved questions that Dylan was supposed to be answering.

“Hot stuff, huh?” Tyler asks after they work through a few of them.

“My favorite stuff,” Dylan smiles back, and stretches his neck to drop a kiss on Tyler’s jaw.

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/post/137188084344)


End file.
